So, this's gonna be a slow one again because I need to get *this* talk out of the way first.
For questions; yup, there'll be definitely some changes how Governor's attack will be, as I really don't want to follow up to a T the show's script and bore you or myself to death. LOL. I've got some ideas, but nothing certain yet, I hope to figure it out while writing, he he :) But yeah, people are gonna be scattered around before they regroup as how it happened at the show too. Who's gonna be taken as hostage, I possibly won't change those parts a lot, perhaps only killing off Michonne right there to get her out of the way along with Hershel, I don't know :) My ideas are mostly more for what happens the next. I'm not really interest a bit with Governor.
Right now who's feeding the walkers is the main plot until the Governor's attack, and I'm gonna play with that idea a bit until we resolved it :)
IXX.
The next morning at the dawn she came out again, but this time Rick dutifully kept his eyes trained ahead, digging, cleaning, checking the roots.
His small talk with Daryl from last night was still clear in his mind, but so were her words.
Slow down, cowboy.
And he was, he was slowing down. She was different, that was quite obvious, but it didn't mean that—didn't mean that they were soulmates or something—her words.
Rick really should pay more attention what she said.
We only kissed once. Once.
A closure of sorts. The rest just had gone out of the control, ahead of them. Amanda must've felt the same, too, apparently, and she'd stayed as Rick and all of them had wanted her to, so yeah, everything was good.
Everything could turn back to normal now.
As normal as it could be with their lives at least.
He really needed to make that talk now and be done it—safely put it away. Yesterday he just couldn't have done, going through all that anger and weariness. He was always feeling like this now in these days, coursing through one moment in anger and one moment in weariness—that was how she made him feel, too—one moment angry—being a damn stubborn mule she was, not even listening to him, keep scrubbing her damn pants, then swearing at his face with her soapy hands, throwing off bubbles at his face, then the next made him weary showing her own true colors—showing her own weakness—her own weariness—and Rick was tired bouncing off between two opposites.
There were those rare moments that she made him laugh, too, made him relax, two cops at patrol, and he wanted that—not the other parts.
He was slowing down.
When her workout finished, he expected her to go inside again as silent as she'd come out, but instead of walking back to the yard, she started walking toward the field.
Rick let out a sigh, keeping his head bowed down.
He didn't lift it either when she came to the fence, and leaned over it, putting one foot with boots again propped against it, "Hey—" she called at him with a small voice.
Rick nodded, still digging with the trowel in his hands, crouched down at the dirt, and murmured a hey back.
He felt her eyes on him a second before she started speaking, "Yesterday you said—uh—" His hands almost paused as she halted for a second, "Uh, Maggie found something and wanted me to look at it—" she continued, "What's it?"
He finally lifted his head after that and gave her a look back. Her face was flushed from her exercise and moist with perspiration, her bun turned again messy, frizzy hair running out of the corners, and she still looked beautiful, but Rick kept those thoughts away from his mind now. "It's fences. We found dead animals again," he explained, standing up.
"Oh—" she breathed out, and asked, "Where?"
"Close to the backyard this time."
"He must've understood he got caught—" she commented.
Rick nodded, taking off his gloves, and pushed them at the back of his pocket, "I—I go and change my clothes and we take a tour, okay?" she asked then.
In silence, with a quick darting look, Rick nodded again. "Yeah."
She came out fifteen or so minutes later, without his watch it was getting harder to keep track of the time, and Carol's watch was still in his cell. He couldn't bring himself to put it in his pockets. Back again outside, though, she was clad in tight jeans and the dark green top like yesterday, and he'd been half expecting her to go back to wear her pants from her uniform today.
Given that yesterday how she had been so hell bent on washing them.
But she hadn't, she had kept the borrowed clothes now even though she'd made her hair into another tight bun. Stopping at the wooden fence, she nodded at her, "Let's go."
They walked around the whole perimeters as she wandered her eyes around, "We need to train more people—" she commented softly as they slowly walked, the snarls and growls coming closer, "Have more watches and we need to mix the shifts."
He frowned, "What do you mean? You know I already separated Glenn and Maggie shifts."
She shook her head, "No. I'm not talking about that. I saw Daryl and Michonne taking shifts together. It's a waste. Your—our—" she corrected a second later, and Rick felt—good with the correction, with the "we", "Our numbers are dwindling after the infection and the fence attack, right? We need to recruit more people now. We need to give a rookie to an experienced fighter, so they could learn drill from the best. When I came into the force after the Academy, they gave me Lamson's side, and he was already a senior officer."
Understanding her point, Rick nodded. "We used to do it too—" he said back, turning aside a bit and gave her a small smile back, "Though we didn't used to have that much rookies at Sheriff's Department."
She laughed, "I imagine. Did you ever have women Sheriff?" she asked, tossing at him a side glance.
"Not that I could recall."
She scoffed. "You know how it's—" he murmured, and she nodded with a yeah. He gave her another look, his gaze searching this time, curious, "Lamson—" he slowly talked again, "Was he your partner from the start?"
She nodded, "From the very first day—" she answered, "He—he was such an asshole at first." A smile lifted her lips upward faintly, "If you ever mention this to anyone, I'll deny it until my last breath, but I don't even remember now how many times he made me cry at the bathroom at my first year."
Surprised, he twisted fully at her, "What?" He asked, frowning a bit, "Why?"
She shrugged off, her eyes skipping at him as they walked, "Well—he thought me as a mole—" then she gave out a little sigh, turning her eyes ahead, "You know a mob plant. Most of them did."
Rick hadn't asked why. He'd understood. Mobs—gangs of the city. Their recruitments mostly had used to come from the children who had used to live in the streets or gutters of the cities or foster homes. And, Amanda was really a pretty woman, too, and he knew what that had meant too.
For a moment or so, he thought to ask her why she'd wanted to become a cop, but he kept his mouth shut.
He was slowing down.
They stayed in silence for a few seconds, then arrived the part of the backyard where they'd found the dead animals last morning.
This morning there were none.
"Well—it's clean now," Amanda commented, and Rick nodded.
He turned around and gazed at the prison's cell blocks. D Block was in the clear sight, and a part of the C, too. A wasn't in the range as it was also empty now after the quarantine. "Someone from D might've jumped from the back windows and ran to here," he said aloud, thinking on the idea.
They were so few now at C. One of them would've killed people to protect what they had but started losing it like this. No.
Rick knew it wasn't. All in frankness, the only possibly person at C Block who had an inkling to lose it was him, and he wasn't feeding any walkers, well, as much as he knew.
Amanda nodded beside him, too, "Possibly. And whoever who might be, he already caught up that you're on him—" She pointed the empty grass with her head, "You asked others to check around?" she questioned.
Rick nodded back. "Yeah," he confirmed, "I told them to keep it quiet."
She nodded again as a shiver pass through her, Rick almost see her tremble, "You know—this…this's giving me creeps."
"I know. Me too."
She looked thoughtful for a moment, "I think I could ask Joan and Noah to keep a look on the block for us, too."
"Yeah—" Rick said again, his eyes turning to the prison block, "It'd be good. Joan seems like a smart woman."
She gave her another nod, and confirmed, "She's—" She turned to him, "Rick, I—I want to train them. I can't have them like this anymore. They—" She swallowed lowly, "They need to learn to protect themselves." She paused, and her eyes finding him asked, "Can I do it?"
Looking at her back, Rick shook his head, "Amanda, you don't need my permission to train two adults—" He told her back with a sigh, "You're not at Grady anymore. I'm not your CO."
She ran her eyes away, "Well—it's your guns," she murmured, and flickered her eyes back at him for a second, "And you weren't talking like that yesterday… I quite remember you ordering me around."
He gave her a look back, "That was different," he shot back, "I still need to know what you're doing with guns—when you'll do it—how you'll do it, where you'll do it, yes," he admitted, "And if the council takes a decision, you need to heed it, but for anything else, you don't need my permission."
She darted at him a flittering look, then nodded quickly, "Okay."
They stayed in silence then, away in the backyard he could hear the day slowly rising at the front side, their people awakening up—even a few walkers had started coming toward their direction as they just stood there in silence, Amanda bowing her head, looking at the ground, silence as a live breathing thing among them, and Rick knew they couldn't keep going on like this anymore. He ran a hand over his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose before he finally said, "About yesterday…we still need to talk, I guess."
"Yeah…" she murmured, too, and lifted her head as if to get ready herself. Beside them at other side of the fence, two walkers got closer and tried to claw at the fences, they both didn't even toss a glance at the dead corpses.
"When you told me that wasn't a proper way to say farewell, Amanda," Rick then started, "I kissed you because I wanted to," and told her truthfully, "and I don't regret it." He didn't. Still, it was the thing they'd had to do at the moment, and that moment he'd wanted to do it, a right thing, and it would've ended, but it hadn't, but still Rick didn't regret it'd happened.
"I felt—I felt we needed some closure," he tried to explain, "And it—it looked like the right thing to do, and I thought we were really saying goodbye, too, so it happened."
"I know," she said back, nodding, "I wanted it, too, Rick, and I don't regret it, either." She gave him a look after then, and smiled a bit, almost shy, and he…thought again…beautiful, but pushed it away from his mind… "It was a very good kiss," she told him, with that smile and all, "You're a good kisser."
He made out a small noise at the compliment before she continued, "And—and um, quite frankly…I find you really hot—" Another fleeting shy smile before she let out a small sigh, "But I don't want things get…complicated…romantically. I hate when it happens."
Quite precisely put. "I understand—" he told her back, "I don't want any complications in my life, either."
"And…casual sex isn't an option, either." She made a little gulp, "Sex…it kinda complicates things, too."
Giving her a look, he shook his head, "I don't do casual."
He didn't. He'd tried once before Lori, at the college, and had found it—not his style. Too mechanical, not having any depth—it'd felt as if—as if masturbating with alive body, not having sex, knowing nothing about the woman he had been together other than her name and the drink she preferred. Then afterward, he'd met Lori—then well, he'd never been with anyone else after then. He'd never cheated.
But Amanda was giving him a look now, open and measuring, and dry, and Rick didn't like it, either. "I tried it—" he rasped at her.
She laughed at that. "I see. No casual sex." She shrugged off, "It wouldn't work here anyway. You can't fuck people casually if you're gonna be stuck with them for breakfast. I mean it contradicts with the whole point, right?" she joked, but he didn't laugh.
She cleared her throat, and asked, "So…um, we're okay?"
Were they? He had no idea. The talk wasn't going on how he supposed it should've gone, but then he'd never had done anything like this before, as well, so he wasn't sure how it was supposed to be, either. With all of her airy sexy comments and retorts, Amanda didn't look like she knew how it was supposed to be, either, and Rick didn't know it was a good…thing or not.
He sighed out. Honesty, he just needed to be honest with her. "Amanda," he called at her, "I don't want things be like this between us." He gestured around with a hand wave, "Awkward. Weird. I want us to be—friends."
She let out a sigh at that, as well, running her eyes away. "I've pegged you as a smart guy, too, Rick—" she said in return, "Don't disappoint me, please." She shook her head, her eyes skipping toward the fence, looking at the two walkers still trying clawing at the fence, "You know we can't be friends. Not like this—not when—" Another breath out, and she turned her gaze on him from walkers, "Well—not when most of the times I want to fuck you senseless."
Quite precisely put, indeed.
He stared at her, and this time she didn't run hers too, but only gave a little shrug off, and even with the vulgar words she managed to look shy—and for a second, for a second, Rick fought the worst kind of battles in his life—He…he battled with himself…not to drop her at the ground and fuck her senseless.
The urge was so strong—he couldn't even tear his eyes away from hers—and if they had sex now, it couldn't have been anything casual, not even damn close.
He cleared out his throat and nodded again, "Okay," he agreed. "No friends business—" Pausing, he gave her another look, "But we can be partners, right?" he asked her then, "Two cops, doing their jobs. We can be…professionals."
At his words, she tilted her head aside, and gave him a long look, "I suppose. I—I don't fuck my colleagues. Don't shit where you eat principle."
He nodded at her with a look, taking a step further, his eyes on hers, too, "A good principle."
"Saves you from drama—you know office romance…" she breathed out with a hoarse voice, her eyes not leaving his, and she licked her bottom for a split of second… "…always ends in tears…" Rick wondered what she would've done if he kissed her now. Her eyes had darkened to a darker shade of green again, too, glistening and he…almost smelled her arousal—the pheromones in her body seemed to be emitting out of her every pore at his direction…
And, Rick remembered his dream—the way she had smiled at him over her shoulder as Rick had held at her waist from behind, the way her body felt against his—nimbly nested against his, as if she was made for him—then his eyes caught the metal glint of his ring.
And, she caught it, too.
Before he could do anything, her face closing off, she pulled back a step, putting a few inches between them, and reading the gesture loud and clear, Rick…let her.
"Partners?" she asked him with a clear voice a few seconds later, not a throaty, hoarse whisper, but cool and placid.
Giving her nod back, Rick agreed, "Partners."
# # #
The next day, after her workout session finished, Amanda changed into her uniform's newly washed pants, put on the white tee shirt she had found from Glenn, made her hair up into her bun, and went to find him for their morning patrol.
As they'd agreed to be partners, they damn should have some rituals.
So, some harmless morning patrols were in order for them, and it was also useful, too, as she liked having the sense of the prison in the morning before anyone else woke up.
When she found him again at his field, he gave her a full look, assessing her new chosen fashion statement but didn't comment.
Well, after all they'd decided on it together.
Before it had finished, for a minute she'd been certain that he was going to take…the leap and kiss her again—his eyes—those damn eyes gazing at her—peeling off her every layer—leaving her bare—and he saw desire in his eyes, and a myriad of other things she couldn't decipher, and—she really didn't want things get complicates, she fucking hated when it happened—but then again, perhaps… she could've made an exception…for him… once…she would try...
Without even realizing, the idea had started to play in her mind even when her lips muttered, saves you from drama, and a part of her was asking what if—those damn things—then for a second, his gaze lowered and he checked his ring.
And, her moment of wishful thinking gone, the reality had kicked back in.
But all in frankness, Rick Grimes was the type of a man your mama would've warned you not to get involved—not because he was one of those so-called bad boys—no, not damn close, because he was one of those nice men who would break your heart in the worst way.
A man who was still in love with another.
It even didn't matter if the woman was there or not, for him, she was still there, and Amanda had seen so much from other's dramas to know that when a battle like that was lost.
Besides, she really hated love triangles—couldn't even stomach them at the movies…but for herself…in the real life.
No way.
No fucking way.
So, yeah, two cops at a patrol, and they needed some damn rituals to turn things back to normal. They could never be friends, but they could be professionals, like he had said.
Smart guy.
Hot, nice, and smart—a good man, a good father—not to mention good looking…Ugh. And…in love with someone else, she reminded herself.
He was attracted to her obviously, like she was, and he'd admitted that he didn't regret kissing her, and she'd liked it, liked hearing the confirmation from him, like something had lifted her chest too, but still, he was still in love with someone else, dead or not didn't matter.
Because Amanda really fucking hated dramas.
And, she—she'd really missed her uniforms. The ease as she paraded with her combat pants, the leisure of it—so nice.
Yes, that was what she was.
The girl she liked to be—perfectly content in her comfort zone where she knew her shit, even in a new—surrounding, being in control. The familiar relief was there too, no disturbance in her—Amanda Shepherd was back.
And she was fucking glad of it.
"Ready for your morning stroll, Sheriff?" she asked him, leaning over the fence.
Without giving her a glance from the field, he nodded, "Yeah."
He stood up, took off his gloves, and pushed them off his back pocket, and her eyes stuck on him, the simple, idle gesture found her—and she found herself getting hot again—turned on as she watched him—
Goddammit!
She bowed her head, almost with a sigh—and he tossed at her a glance, she caught it under her bowed head, but didn't ask anything.
Perhaps their stupid talk was good to no shit.
It'd been so bizarre—and all in frankness, she had never done such a think before. There had been Michael only—the lawyer she'd used to hang around—for a while, then one day he'd come and started talking about commitment and such, and she had said no. And the end of the story. She'd heard from him twice via voice mail, but then never talked to each other again.
This—this was a fucking mess. How people could do it, she wondered. And—Rick and her—they hadn't even broken up. They'd only kissed once.
They weren't kids. They were grown-ups.
Professionals.
Colleagues.
Two cops taking a morning patrol.
And, she felt his gaze on her again, and lifted her head—and saw him waiting for her. "C'mon, let's go."
She nodded and padded after him. They started making tour, the growls and snarls from the other side of the fence their background noises, and people started slowly coming to for the fence duty, too, as their eyes looked for any dead animal from last night.
"Hey—" she called out at him before they finished half of their tour, "I want to ask you something—" she started, and for a second, he paused, skipping his eyes at her, "Maybe you have to run it with the council, I don't know. I just thought it, but it can't be my decision."
He nodded, "Go on."
"I'm gonna start teaching stuff Noah and Joan. I'll look the place today where we can deal with it as silently as possible, perhaps with silencers so we can't draw rotters." She paused, "I'm gonna ask others too. If anyone want to attend to. Beth will come, too."
Rick nodded, but gave her a look, "You need to talk it with Hershel first."
Amanda shook her head, "I told Beth, but she said she's gonna do it herself." Rick nodded then. "That wasn't what I wanted to ask, though. I—I was thinking about the kids—" she said then thoughtfully.
That made him stop walking. "You said before Carol was teaching them how to use knives and such—" she started, "and you let her do it. Do—do you think we should restart doing those, too? I—I might start a class or something."
He gave her a look, "Do you—do you want to?" he asked.
She let out a sigh, "I don't know. I—I don't like kids needing to learn this stuff, but you know…" Her eyes lifted at his again, "Luck runs out."
Slowly, he nodded. "I—I'll talk it in the council. Then we'll decide. We need to talk with parents, too, I guess."
"Yeah. Possibly."
They started walking again, her eyes wandering—her own words bringing her back another reality, another fact. She looked at the fence—rotters gathering—people starting killing them, an endless routine—one she realized she didn't like, not even a bit.
Lucks run out.
She wondered how many days had passed exactly since she'd come here at that morning, bleeding, at the edge of the death…More than two weeks, but keeping a toll was getting harder. And Beth's board had stayed at Grady.
Suddenly she felt sad, and her guilt and the fact that she had left her people behind found her again—the fact that Amanda Shepherd was moving on with her life again. There was no bitterness, though, only sadness, and for a second, she thought she was going to cry as well.
She swallowed and let out a deep breath. "Rick—" she asked him then, trying to keep her voice wavering, "How many days have passed since I've been here?" she asked.
His answer didn't hesitate, "Seventeen—" And something coiled at her chest so tightly the way he'd answered, so fast, so certain, so—without hesitation—the fact that he'd been counting— "Why did you ask?" he asked then, giving her another look.
She shrugged, "Just wanted to know how many days we passed without an accident—" she said back, and paused, bowing her head as they walked, "I—Beth's board stayed at Grady."
Rick nodded, "We can find another one around for you two—" he told her back slowly, "so you can start counting again."
She nodded back, gulping through a lump in her throat, and for the first time in her life—she really wished—she really wished they could've…. tried— She really wished things would've been different. Perhaps in another life.
"Yeah—" she whispered back in their own life, the life was full with dead as they both stopped and looked at the walking deads outside the fences side by side, "Beth told me you saw thirty once before," she continued, her eyes still at the rotters, snarls and grows their usual background noise, "We—we never managed more than anything up fifteen at Grady—" she said, "I hope we manage to pass thirty now," she slowly said, giving him a side look, but he was just looking ahead, "I'd like to see that."
His eyes still ahead, he gave her another nod, "So do I, Amanda, so do I."
So, yeah, they're both "I don't want any complication in my life" state right now, even though they were about to have sex, and that wedding ring again. He he. I wanted the talk being a bizarre conversation, too, as they both aren't accustomed to do these kinds of stuff-and Amanda cracking up 'sex' jokes continuously, Rick feeling weird, then finally deciding to be "professionals".
Hope it worked out. It was kinda hard to do. I wanted the end to be a bit sad, too, to keep the setting still appropriate for TWD. But we can say that counting down has started, lol. I can imagine now Amanda getting obsessed with training people who doesn't have a training and kids as you know-she decided not to kill Gorman-she needs another obsession, he he.